It All Comes Down to This
by Rainey13
Summary: A tag to "Under the Radar" - what does the ending do to the relationship between Neal and Peter?


_**A/N: This is a tag to the Season 2 finale "Under the Radar" – don't read if you haven't seen the episode yet :-)**_

* * *

The smile spread over his face, growing in direct proportion to the number of objects he looked at. His fingers moved, seemingly of their own free will, touching a painted masterpiece here, a priceless sculpture there, stunning jewels everywhere.

_The treasure had survived…_

At least, some of it had. They hadn't had time to open all of the crates on the U-Boat, so he couldn't be sure if this was really everything or not.

It was beyond his wildest dreams. And it was, seemingly, being offered to him on a silver platter.

Or, more accurately, on a platter made of fine canvas and even finer jewels.

_Who could possibly have gotten the treasure away from Adler? And, more importantly, why had that someone given him the key to this room, instead of just hiding the treasure away?_

Actually, _most_ importantly, what was he going to do with the knowledge he now had about the treasure's location?

The Neal Caffrey of a couple of years ago wouldn't have even needed to think about that question. He would have already been mentally categorizing the treasure – what could be easily fenced as is, what might bring more if turned in for standing rewards, what would need to be re-cut or otherwise altered in order to move.

But the Neal Caffrey of today…

The answer wasn't so easy.

There was no way to deny that Peter Burke, and the agent's world of the FBI and Elizabeth, had rubbed off on him. They had developed a bond, a level of trust…

At least, he had _thought_ they had.

_So why had Peter been so quick to blame him…_

Neal took one more look around the room, and made a decision.

* * *

There was a familiar car parked at the curb, and as Neal walked up toward the steps leading to June's front door, he recognized the figure sitting there in the shadows.

"Peter," he said, his voice weary. "Or should I say Agent Burke?"

"I guess that depends on what you're prepared to tell me," Peter said, getting to his feet.

"Tell you about what, Peter?" Neal asked, holding out his hands. "You already accused, tried, and convicted me back on that dock."

"Neal…"

"Why would you think that I would destroy artistic masterpieces?" _Because Peter couldn't possibly know what Neal had found in that room…_

There was a slight hesitation, and then Peter reached into his inside jacket pocket and pulled something out. "Because I found this."

Neal reached out, taking the item. It was singed at the edges, but… "That's not possible," he whispered. "This wasn't finished. It's still on my easel…" _But had he actually seen it there when he had found the note and the key?_

He pushed past Peter, digging for his keys. Open the door, up the steps… He could hear Peter following, but it didn't matter.

His hands were trembling and it took a couple of tries to get the key into the lock on the door to his apartment but he finally opened it, turned on the light, walked toward the corner…

_The easel stood in the corner, exactly where he remembered it being. _

_Except he didn't remember it being empty._

"No…"

"It's a great plan," Peter said quietly from somewhere behind him. "Take the real treasures out, put in some other paintings. Hope that the explosion and the fire destroy anything recognizable, leaving just enough residue for the forensics people to identify as canvas and ink."

Neal ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. "Peter, I was with you. I went back to the office with you after the dry dock. You had Jones call for a new tracking anklet on the way. You watched me put it on." He pulled up his pants leg. "It's still on," he said, demonstrating the glowing green light. "I was at the office, with you. Then I was at your house, with you. I came back here for a few hours of sleep, and then I was back at work, with you."

"You weren't with me the whole time today," Peter said. _Though to Neal's ear the agent sounded slightly less sure of his accusations now…_

"You told me I couldn't go with the assault team!"

"No, so instead you went and met with Adler."

Neal shook his head. "To get that submarine in, the place had to be near the water," he said, recreating the thought process that had guided him that day. "I walked down by the river, and I heard the bell on the channel buoy. I was just following that when Adler and his men found me."

"Were you making a deal with him, Neal?"

"He offered me a deal. He offered half of the treasure if I helped him get past you." Neal paused, looking Peter in the eye. "I said no. I turned him down, Peter. That's why he was getting ready to shoot me when you shot him."

"Adler thought you did it too, Neal. And that remnant of your painting…"

Neal shook his head slowly. "There had to be more…" And then he was moving again, into the back hall, past the bathroom, the walk-in closet, to the storage room at the end. He reached for the handle, but his hand stopped just short.

"Neal?"

"June let me clear out this room," he said softly. He opened the door, and his breath caught. "Peter, I must have had twenty or more canvases in here…"

_Which was hard to believe now, when the room was empty…_

"Neal, I need you to look me in the eye, and tell me you had nothing to do with that explosion."

Neal took a deep breath and turned to face the agent. "Peter, I swear to you, I did _not_ steal that artwork, and I did _not_ set up that explosion."

_Now just so Peter didn't ask about actually __knowing__ where the stolen merchandise was…_

* * *

He _wanted_ to believe Neal – _didn't he?_

But this was the man who had, by his own admission, worked a long con on Adler, with the goal of stealing millions. This was the man who had stolen artwork all over the world, forged documents and masterpieces that the owners would swear were real, conned people out of untold wealth – and yet only took a single conviction for bond forgery.

_This was also the man who had risked his own life for Peter's more than once. Who had given up a multi-million dollar ring just weeks earlier to save Peter. Who had faced aging TNT with Peter on that blasted U-boat._

Peter shook his head slowly, a heaviness in his chest. "I _want_ to believe you, Neal. I really do."

"But?"

"I'm just not sure if I can."

Neal sighed and shook his head too. "Peter, I'm the same man who sat at your table last night, drank your wine, and listened to your advice about women. The same man you've trusted to watch your back, to walk your dog – to watch over your wife, Peter! I'm the same guy you kept from running into that burning plane, the one you sat up with all night over beer and wine when we tried to figure out how to catch Adler – the same man who almost died with you on the deck of that U-boat…" He paused, taking a deep breath. "Peter, I'm telling you, I did _not_ steal that treasure."

Peter listened to the words, heard the emotion, saw the plea in the younger man's eyes. And yes, he really did _want_ to believe…

But he couldn't, at least not fully - not yet.

"I need to think about all of this," he finally said softly.

"So where does that leave us?"

"Tomorrow's a work day. I'll see you at the office." _And that sounded so simple – but how could things possibly be simple after all of this?_

_Because no matter how much he wanted to believe… the fact remained that Neal Caffrey was the consummate con man. And he had been warned by many people – including by Neal himself – that the day might come when temptation would be too much._

_And really, how much bigger could the temptation get than that Nazi treasure?_

Peter turned and walked away.

* * *

Neal watched him go, and even after the figure was out of sight he still stood there, staring at the door, listening to the fading sound of the footsteps on the stairs.

Part of him wanted to run after Peter – to show him the note, to take him to the storage unit. To share the wonder and discovery of the treasure with the man he had considered his friend…

_To be honest, if Peter hadn't accused him so quickly of being the thief, he might very well have done that._

Part of him wanted to just say _'screw it'_ to everything. If Peter could be so quick to accuse, so ready to believe the worst – maybe he should just cut the anklet and go. It wasn't like he hadn't planned for such an eventuality.

_Though, truthfully, he hadn't thought about those plans for a very long time. He wondered if he could even pinpoint when Peter Burke had ceased to be merely his keeper, and had become so much more…_

That left part of him though that counseled caution – don't rush into anything. Peter could investigate the theft all he wanted, and nothing would tie it to Neal. He hadn't done it, so there would be no evidence to say he had.

_Right, bide his time. Running now would make him look guilty. And he couldn't afford any mistakes that might get him caught again. Watch and plan – what was the hurry? He had the world's greatest treasure at his fingertips…_

The sound of the front door closing made him jump, bringing him back to the present.

This shouldn't be such a difficult thing. He was _Neal Caffrey_ – con man, forger, thief. He _took_, he didn't give. And no one – _no one!_ – had ever scored a prize like he had access to now. Even the greatest pirate treasure of days gone by paled in comparison.

_So why did he feel so hollow inside?_

Sighing, he closed the door and went to the wine rack, selecting a bottle. He grabbed a corkscrew and a glass and sat down at the table. He had a lot to think about, and there was no sense even trying to sleep.

But even as he poured the first glass of wine, one thought crowded everything else out of his mind.

_Damn it, Peter – what have you done to me?_

It was going to be a very long night.


End file.
